


attacked my lungs with lies to pass the time

by ragegoddess



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragegoddess/pseuds/ragegoddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The worst part about being sick, Brendon thinks, is when you first wake up. And your throat feels all rough again and your nose is stuffed so full it feels like you shoved it against one of those machines they have at Build A Bear and your whole body feels sensitive and sore and <em>awful.</em> It’s like you spend all day trying to get better just to let it all go to waste when you go back to sleep so you can wake up and feel like death all over again. </p><p>The best part about being sick, Brendon thinks, is Jon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	attacked my lungs with lies to pass the time

**Author's Note:**

> If you asked me to give you a firm idea of the layout of their dorm room I would not be able to do it. I had an idea in my head in the beginning but it kept changing as I wrote, so just imagine it how you'd like. 
> 
> disclaimer: I do not and cannot own real people. This is a work of fiction and is not meant to make assumptions about anyone's sexuality. If you are even slightly related to anyone involved in this fic, please turn back now.

The first time Brendon notices anything is when he’s fresh out of the shower brushing his teeth in front of the communal mirror, knocking elbows with Gabe The RA. (The other floors in Brendon's building are terrified of Gabe because one time he, like, got really bad weed or something and drew snakes all over his door and walls in _Sharpie_ and started talking about a Cobra like it was a god or like maybe it was what he called himself in the third person. Or maybe it wasn’t a bad trip because he still does it.) Brendon likes Gabe; he towers over Brendon by like four feet but he never makes him feel bad about it (like Spencer has ever since he hit his insane growth spurt) and he wears a lot of neon and animal print and it looks like he paints his jeans on in the mornings. The best thing about Gabe, though, is that he calls Brendon “sugar” and gives him candy every time he sees him. It pisses Jon off because he doesn’t think it’s fair that Gabe gets Brendon all sugared up and doesn’t even have to stick around to deal with him. Jon would say that Brendon is “annoying” when he’s had a lot of sugar but Brendon knows that Jon is just using insults to hide how much he cares. Today’s treat is half a pack of Starburst that Gabe pulls from one of his many pockets. Kind of like a TV drug dealer only cooler. Brendon pockets the candy and gives Gabe a foamy smile. 

When he spits into the sink he can feel his throat twinge. He rubs at his throat a little experimentally and yeah, he’s definitely getting sick. He can always tell with this sort of thing. He’s like one of those really well made pregnancy tests, the kind that costs like ten dollars that for some reason no one ever wants to buy when they’re panicking. He can sense a cold two weeks before your missed period. Or whatever the cold equivalent would be. He’ll work on the metaphor. Simile? Hell yeah. Simile. He smiles at his reflection and finger guns a little. Totally sick. Jon’s gonna be pumped. 

 

*

 

Jon’s a little less than pumped. 

"Dude, you’re not fucking sick." He doesn’t even look up from his math homework. You wouldn’t know it to look at him but Jon takes schoolwork very very seriously. It’s very very cute.

"You’re very very cute."

"And you’re not sick." 

"You don’t know my body, Jonathon! If I’m sick I would know before you."

"You. Are not. Sick."

Well.

 

*

 

"If you think you’re getting sick why don’t you put on some shoes?"

Jon is casting judging glances at Brendon’s feet, his toes curling themselves into the pavement because, whatever, Jon’s not _right_ or anything but it’s sort of cold. Brendon is trying to be a good friend and accompany Jon on his smoke break given that it’s a Saturday night and it’s _dark_ and there are hooligans running around shouting things that drunk people shout on Saturday nights in the dark. Which brings up the rather good question about why aren’t they drunk on this dark Saturday night. 

"Why aren’t we drunk?"

Jon doesn’t even seem phased that Brendon ignored his question. "Because I have a mountain of homework and you’re getting sick."

"I’m not getting sick." Maybe sick of not having fun.

"That’s the spirit."

It’s not until Jon’s stamped out his cigarette and led Brendon back upstairs to their third floor dorm and Brendon’s stretched out comfortably on his bed that he realizes what Jon did. It’s like those fights that you had when you were little (and that Brendon _still_ has with Ryan) where you say "yes" and then they say "no" like quickfire until they trip you up with a "yes" and then you say "no" and it’s like the most crushing defeat you could ever experience. He needs to get things back on track. Like, now.

"Jon. Jon. Jon." He coughs into his pillow experimentally. Yeah. "I’m getting sick."

 

*

 

"Okay, so. If I’m not sick then why did I sneeze on the girl at Starbucks this morning?"

Jon sighs a sort of world weary _oh despair_ sigh that has Brendon imagining him in swishy fabrics and a big hat and maybe a tissue to wave in the wind. "Because there was a scented candle on the counter, moron.”

Brendon’s not really sure what that has to do with anything. He says, “I’m not really sure what that has to do with anything.”

“Bec _ause,_ ” another sigh, “you sniff literally every single scented candle that you see and I’m pretty sure you sneeze every time." A pause. "Actually you might be allergic I’m not sure what your problem is it’s not that hard to not sniff something."

Okay so maybe there had been a pumpkin scented candle on the counter while he’d been ordering his drink. And _maybe_ Brendon had never met a scented candle he didn’t sniff but that doesn’t mean Jon’s right. "You’re wrong."

"Sure."

 

*

 

Brendon snuggles up to Jon on the lounge couch, carefully not knocking the book out of his hands. Even while on death’s doorstep Brendon is a very considerate friend. 

"Hey, Jon."

"Hm?"

"You wanna see my snot?" He pulls out the tissue he’s been hiding in his sleeve and waves it dangerously close to Jon’s face.

"Fuck, no! _God."_

"Hm, no, just Brendon is fine." Brendon snickers to himself because, right? Classic. Nailed that one, Urie.

Jon doesn’t even kind of laugh. "I’m going to the library."

Brendon sinks back into the couch and mutters to himself, “Just Brendon.” Beautiful. He reaches out for a high five from the girl on her laptop in the armchair but she doesn’t seem to be able to see him. “Hey. Just Brendon.” She doesn’t seem to be able to hear him either. Probably has headphones in or something. Whatever, Brendon’s not one to let a high five go to waste. The girl looks up when he high fives himself loudly in the quiet room.

He smiles at her.

She doesn’t smile back.

 

*

 

It’s three days later when Brendon wakes up with a pressure in his sinuses and a throat full of phlegm and he hacks his way through a fist pump because, _fuck yeah,_ he’s sick. Jon must’ve heard his coughing because he’s up and out the door before Brendon can even roll his body out of his twin bed. And that alone is enough to make Brendon feel bad because Jon has never once in the two years they’ve roomed together left the room in his pajamas. Not even that time he’d gone home and met up with his old high school friends and brought back the biggest bag of weed Brendon had ever seen. Jon had giggled and hacked his way into his pajamas before he’d even dared to go get food. 

The obvious solution is to watch movies on his laptop and skip class and eat in Jon’s bed until he feels better about being so rudely abandoned by his roommate slash ex best friend. 

 

*

 

The worst part about being sick, Brendon thinks, is when you first wake up. And your throat feels all rough again and your nose is stuffed so full it feels like you shoved it against one of those machines they have at Build A Bear and your whole body feels sensitive and sore and _awful_. It’s like you spend all day trying to get better just to let it all go to waste when you go back to sleep so you can wake up and feel like death all over again. 

The best part about being sick, Brendon thinks, is Jon.

Oh, sure, he talks a big game, all, “Brendon I don’t care if you’re sneezing blood, you’re _not_ sick.” But when it comes down to it Jon is the absolute best person to take care of you when you’re sick. He’s like a mama bear, complete with soft fur on his face and a warm belly to snuggle into when your nose gets cold, but without all the growling and claws. Well, sometimes he growls when you change the channel away from his show and his nails are kinda long because he never clips them but it’s all gentle watered down Jon-versions of normal bear qualities. He gives all encompassing hugs and his hands never shake when he’s taking your temperature. He always makes sure he has a pitcher of juice chilling in the fridge and he has this weird thing where every time he goes to make chicken soup in the kitchen it just magically empties itself of hungry college students and allows Jon to bring back a whole entire pot of soup all for Brendon. 

 

*

 

Brendon ends up falling asleep in Jon’s bed and by the time he wakes up at half past four in the afternoon, Jon _still_ isn’t back. Jon’s last class ends at two on Thursdays so either he’s working in the library (implausible, he never gets any work done because the librarians think he’s cute and they refuse to leave him alone) or avoiding Brendon (even more implausible, Brendon is a delight to be around). 

Most likely, he found a stray cat on campus and got too busy caring for it and trying to find its home to remember that who he _should_ be caring for is Brendon. 

 

*

  
Brendon wakes up from his second nap at six on the dot. He texts Spencer. 

_b: spenceeee, i need u asap_

It takes five minutes before a reply comes in, Brendon rolling around on Jon’s bed in impatience, groaning and sniffing and spitefully getting snot all over Jon’s pillow.

_s: what_

_b: im sickk and jon has abandoned me i need a doctor_

_s: i’m not going to play doctor w/ you bden_

_b: ;))) lol_

_b: please_

_b: pleaseeee_

_b: plEAASSEEEEE_

_s: fINE_

_s: you better not touch me i don’t need to get sick_

_b: i wont i swear_

Fifteen minutes later Spencer comes in the door and Brendon immediately jumps on him, wrapping his legs around Spencer’s soft waist and nuzzling into his collarbones. (Brendon takes pride in the fact that if it had been anyone else Spencer would have just dropped them on the floor and left the room again). Instead, Spencer hobbles his way into the dorm and drops Brendon on the futon in the corner, letting out a huff as he sits down beside him. He leaves a wide gap on the seat but Brendon immediately bridges it, steepling his hands on Spencer’s shoulder and breathing in the smell of Spencer’s detergent. He hasn’t touched anyone in, like, hours and it’s not in his nature at all.

“Oh, I brought you some tea.” Spencer digs around in his jeans’ pocket and pulls out a tea bag, tossing it onto Brendon’s lap.

“Spencer Smith.”

“Hm.”

“You are an absolute life saver. Someday someone will write songs about how you saved my life.”

“I brought you a tea bag.” He rolls his eyes when he says it, but not even in the usual way he does like when someone says something stupid in class or takes too long ordering their drink in the cafe. In like a soft fond way. Spencer _loves_ Brendon. 

“You love me.”

“Hardly.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Ryan’s my best friend.”

“Spencer! Jonathon left me this morning and he has yet to come back. I have no idea what happened to him. Like, uh, he went out for cigarettes. Or milk. Either one, all I know is he never came back and now I’m like one of those poor abandoned kids.” He whispers, “He’s always here. He can’t just _leave,_ Spence.”

Spencer sits for a bit, absently running his fingers through Brendon’s hair. Finally, he says, “Are you sure that uh, you’re this upset only because you’re sick?”

Brendon grumbles, “Yes, I’m deathly ill and he’s not here to take care of me, you’d be mad too.”

“What I’m saying is, have you ever thought about why you need to be around Jon all the time? Like, analyzed your feelings toward him?”

This conversation is getting strange. Spencer normally avoids feelings At All Costs.

“What are you saying, Spence?”

“I’m saying,” he pauses, taking a breath, “that you have a big gay crush on Jon and everyone knows it but you.” He looks contemplative. “And possibly Jon. But mostly you.”

“Spencer I’m sick and you’re confusing me.”

“I’d say you’re already confused,” Spencer says, and then chuckles a bit. Through his sickly haze Brendon registers that it’s actually sort of irritating when someone laughs at their own jokes. Or, probably just when Spencer does it, Brendon probably looks cute. Like always.

Spencer’s talking again when Brendon tunes back in. “-saying is think about it, okay? You might see something you never considered before.”

Spencer feels tense so Brendon says, “yes, okay, fine,” and curls up, knocking his knees into Spencer’s belly and snuggling further into his neck. 

“I do have homework you know.”

“Just five more minutes. You’re so warm.”

“You promised you wouldn’t touch me.”  
“I know.”

Spencer stays another half hour and drapes a blanket over Brendon before he leaves. Brendon thinks about how nice it is to be the only person that Spencer likes.

 

*

 

Brendon gets woken from his third nap of the day when Jon finally comes home. His nose is all stuffed up but he can still smell pot on Jon’s clothes (and when did he change into jeans and a T-shirt?) when he crawls into the bed next to him, pulling the blanket up over the both of them. 

“Hey, Brendon.”

“Jon.”

“I think there’s someone in my bed.”

“Hm, I think you might be right. What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing.” He rolls over, turning his back to Brendon. “I’ll call the cops in the morning.”

 

*

 

Brendon wakes up and Jon is gone again. He’s halfway through a text to Spencer ( _spencer bring me yr fists i need u 2 beat jons face_ ) when Jon comes in the door. With four Tupperware containers full of soup. Brendon practically falls out of the bed, all resentment forgotten. 

“Jon! You made me soup, I could kiss you!”

Brendon has to stop himself from actually kissing Jon, only because he doesn’t want Jon to drop the soup of course. 

“Please don’t, I’m sure you haven’t brushed your teeth yet,” Jon says, as he deposits the soup on the table. 

“Don’t worry I’ll get my mouth all nice and soup-y and then we can get to kissing.”

“Sure.” He drops a spoon on Brendon’s desk and grabs his coat off his bed. “I’ve gotta go back out but I’ll be back soon. I think Ryan said he’d stop by. Will you be okay until I get back?”

Brendon doesn’t even care that Jon probably told Ryan to come by and babysit him because, _“Ryan is the only one I know who can put up with you for hours and come out the other end not looking like he got in a fight with an energetic and horrendously talkative lion.” “What about you, Jon?” “I don’t count. Living with you I’ve developed a giant Brendon shaped callus.”_

“I’ll be fine, Jon, thank you.”

 

*

 

Ryan comes over ten minutes after Jon leaves and the first thing he does is steal some of Brendon’s soup. The second thing he does is complain about Brendon’s soup.

“Jesus Christ, dude, this tastes like ass, you can’t actually enjoy this.”

Apparently Ryan never learned the rule about bitching at the hand that you steal food out of. Or something like that. 

“Well it’s a good thing it’s not yours then because this is the finest soup I have ever eaten and when I can actually taste things again, I fully plan on eating at least six more bowls of it.” 

Ryan looks skeptical and picks at the peeling laminate on Brendon’s desk. “The only reason you can stomach that crap is because you’re in love with Jon. You don’t have to love his shitty soup too, you know.”

Brendon’s mouth opens of its own accord and he loses precious amounts of soup down his chin. He considers using Ryan’s dumb vest as a napkin but settles for the sleeve of his sweater. He puts on his most Olsen twins detective agency voice and asks, “Have you been talking to Spencer?”

Ryan’s smirk is possibly the biggest it’s ever been. “No, I really have not.”

 

*

 

When Ryan is finally gone and Jon finally comes back it’s with a bag from the drug store and a stack of movies from the Blockbuster down the street. The fact that Jon went to Blockbuster for him is incredible and Brendon has to pause his soup inhalation to work on some air inhalation. 

“Jon.” He casts what he hopes is a meaningful glance at the stack of DVDs. 

“I know.” Jon’s glance is just as meaningful. 

The clerk that works the store most days is old and cranky and he absolutely _hates_ Jon. He’s got it in his head that Jon is some kind of hooligan, possibly because of his beard. The guy always gives Jon dirty looks when he takes his money and one time he called Jon a “punk ass kid” right to his face. Or, like, muttered under his breath as they left the store but whatever, potato potahto. The whole thing is ridiculous because anyone who wears flip flops that often could not possibly be a punk and a paying customer is a good customer and the guy is ancient you’d think he would’ve retained at least _some_ business knowledge after all these years but also maybe not it’s not like Blockbuster is doing great business lately. It’s probably all that dude’s fault. 

Brendon reaches down to get more soup and realizes that Jon’s taken it away from him. Brendon makes his most pathetic face at Jon’s back as he plugs in the DVD player but he must sense it somehow because he says, “You’ve had enough soup today you need to rest again. Watch a movie, nap, let your body heal itself.” 

“Fine,” he says, like it’s a hardship to watch a movie while Jon looks on concernedly, a cute little frown tucked into his brow. 

Brendon recognizes the music playing over the Aladdin menu within seconds. They’ve rented it so much he’s surprised the store hasn’t just given it to them by now. Or, actually he’s not because that old bastard would never do anything nice for them. 

“Jonathon, I love you very much.” (He pays close attention but there are no strange side effects of proclaiming his love which must mean that Spencer and Ryan are wrong and it’s just love, not Love.)

“I know. I also got The Little Mermaid and Beauty and The Beast but I can’t imagine you’ll be able to stay up to watch them. We can get to them after you sleep for a while.” Brendon hums along with the menu music, his lips buzzing, not unpleasantly, against the pillow crammed in his face. “Also, I got some cough syrup, do you want that now or later?”

“Uh, later, I think.”  
“And I’ve got some Aleve in my desk for the headache you’re gonna get tomorrow morning. You can take it before bed.” 

Brendon smiles, only a little feverishly, into his pillow and nods his thanks. Jon Walker is truly a Godsend. He’s like uh, Mary Poppins. Practically Perfect in every way. Except he can’t make his cough syrup taste like cherry cordial and he doesn’t take Brendon on exciting adventures through sidewalk chalk drawings. Fuck, why aren’t they watching _that_ right now. Oh yeah because they’re watching Aladdin because Jon was considerate enough to rent Brendon’s favorite movie for him. What a great guy. 

He thinks of something. “Hey, Jon, where’d you go yesterday?”

“Oh, uh. Nowhere really. I just needed to think about some things.”

“What things?”

“Private things,” he teases, “Don’t you have secrets, Brendon?”

“Nope. Not from you.”

Brendon falls asleep before Aladdin even meets the Genie and has fever induced dreams about Jon in a white nurse’s uniform going back to Blockbuster and stuffing every single movie into his giant Mary Poppins purse. 

 

*

 

When he wakes up again (it feels like all he ever does anymore is fall asleep and wake up) there’s a heating pad on his chest. He must’ve been out cold if he didn’t notice Jon slipping the pad underneath his shirt. Or maybe he was just extra gentle, the way he always is when dealing with a Sick Brendon. The thought makes his stomach roll kind of weirdly so he makes himself stop thinking about it. 

He must make a noise because Jon is suddenly hovering over him with a bottle of cough syrup, two Aleve, and a glass of water. He makes Brendon take both and leaves the rest of the water on his bedside table. 

Jon tells him to go back to sleep and Brendon almost cries, he’s so fucking tired of sleeping. But apparently his body doesn’t agree because he drifts off fairly quickly.

 

*

 

Brendon wakes up craving waffles. Waffles soaking with butter and syrup but still maintaining some of their original crisp around the edges. That kind. The Perfect Kind. 

What Jon has for him is a cold bagel with cream cheese from the cafeteria and a bottle of orange juice. Jon makes him eat it at the table so he doesn’t get crumbs in his bed. _Jon’s bed,_ he remembers. He thinks about how used to sleeping in Jon’s bed he’s gotten and his stomach feels kinda squidgy, (like that time he ate a family sized serving of fried rice and laid in bed for the rest of the day while Jon did homework and pretended he didn’t hear when Brendon cried himself to sleep) and really hopes his cold isn’t turning into something else. Something with a stomach bug. Oh shit like maybe a new strain of the common cold? They’d have to hospitalize him and he’d wear one of those ugly robes for like four months while they did endless tests trying to figure out what he had and they’d publish his story in medical journals. They might even put him in a zoo. He’d have to survive on the peanuts that kids threw at him through the bars, which is an incredibly bleak sounding future because peanuts are really not that great. Possibly the most overrated nut.

He eats the bagel in three bites and is in the process of trying to remove the lid of his orange juice (those things are screwed on tight, okay) when Jon comes up next to him and presses the back of his hand to Brendon’s forehead. 

“Dude, you’re burning up.”

“Are you telling me I’m hot, Jon Walker?”

“Sure,” he says absently, grabbing Brendon’s face in his hands and turning it back and forth. Like some sort of puppet. “Your eyes look kind of glazed, do you feel feverish?”

Speaking of eyes, Brendon never really noticed how big and brown and fucking, _sparkly_ Jon’s eyes were before. He sings, “Now it’s no wonder that her name means beauty,” and blinks winningly. 

“Jesus, Brendon.” He brushes sweaty hair off of Brendon’s forehead and Brendon’s not sure but he thinks that maybe he’s gonna throw up, his stomach is swooping like crazy. Like in plays when they tie some guy into a harness and he flies around on stage. His stomach has turned into Peter Pan. But a low budget one where you can see the wires really well.

“Spencer and Ryan think I’m in love with you.” He’s not sure if that was a thought or if he actually said it out loud.

“And what do you think?”

Out loud then. Cool. “Um.”

“Gonna need more than that, Bren.”

Somehow, it all kinda spills out of him. “I think that they’re secretly dating and trying to deflect. And that when I’m sick you’re the only one who knows how to take care of me. And when I’m not sick you’re the only one who knows how to take care of me. And I always wanna be around you and I just noticed that apparently you have really big eyes and you make my stomach queasy when you touch me but like in a weird swoop-y way and Ryan’s an idiot and your soup doesn’t taste like ass and also Ryan may not be an idiot because he may be right. About uh, the love thing.” He says this all in a rush and his face feels red and he’s slightly out of breath. Being sick really does not help when it comes to Olympic level talking. 

Jon takes a deep breath and lets it out. Then he takes another and says, “Ryan’s right my soup does taste like ass it’s literally just chicken broth and egg noodles, I don’t know how you can stand it. Why do you think no one else ever wants it?” Brendon breathes. “And also I think I’m in love with you, too.”

Brendon opens his mouth to say something but the words must get lost because he ends up just breathing some more. Breathing is good, he should do it more often.

Jon says, “And, uh, I think I wanna kiss you now. If that’s okay?”

“You’ll get sick.”

“I’ll risk it.”

Jon kisses him full on his sick, germy mouth and for the first time in his life Brendon has absolutely nothing to say. 

 

*

 

Brendon cuddles up against Jon that night in their (their!) bed and texts Spencer “ _i love u. do u want a pic of jons peen i can totaly get u one._ ” He can practically hear Spencer’s smug smile.


End file.
